“You’re doing more than your job, Carson. You’ve spent two days on a case that hasn’t even been officially opened. You’re paying for her hotel out of pocket—don’t look at me like that, I checked. And you’re making promises you might not be able to keep.”
Heat flooded Carson’s face. “Someone has to help her. Everyone else dismissed her as paranoid.”
“Maybe because there’s not much evidence yet. A turned picture frame? Things moved around? That could be anything.”
“The text—”
“From an untraceable burner phone. Yes, I know. It’s concerning. But it’s not enough to justify the resources you’re pouring into this.”
Carson’s hands clenched into fists. “So what, I should just tell her to deal with it? Wait until she gets hurt before we take it seriously?”
“I’m saying you need to be careful. You have a pattern of getting too invested in cases. Of crossing lines you shouldn’t cross.” Holloway’s expression softened slightly. “I know why you do it. I understand. But you can’t save everyone, son. And you can’t let every victim become Lily.”
The name hung in the air between them. The wound that never healed. The reason Carson became a cop in the first place.
“This isn’t about Lily,” Carson said, even though they both knew it was a lie.
“Isn’t it? Young woman in danger. No one else helping her. You riding in like a white knight.”Holloway shook his head. “I’m not saying don’t investigate. I’m saying keep it professional. Don’t make promises. Don’t get emotionally involved. Do your job, but stay objective.”
“I am objective.”
“Then why did you pay for her hotel room out of your own pocket instead of going through victim services?”
Carson looked at the floor. He had no good answer for that. Because going through victim services would have taken time. Would have required paperwork and approvals and waiting. And Nora had needed somewhere safe immediately.
But Holloway was right. That wasn’t objective. That was personal.
“I’ll keep it professional,” Carson said finally.
“See that you do.” Holloway pulled out another file. “And, Carson? If this case goes sideways, if you bend too many rules, I can’t protect you. You understand that?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Yes, sir.”
Carson left the office feeling like he’d been reprimanded and warned and seen through all at once. Holloway was right about everything. He was getting too involved. Making it personal. Seeing Nora as someone to save instead of a victim in a case.
But knowing that didn’t change anything.
He’d still protect her. Still catch whoever was threatening her. Still do whatever it took to keep her safe.
Even if it cost him his badge.
***
At midnight, Carson sat in his car outside Nora’s building, watching.
He’d told himself he was just doing a drive-by. Making sure everything looked secure. Standard procedure.
But he’d been sitting here for forty-five minutes, unable to make himself leave.
Eugene’s shift had started at eleven. Carson had watched him enter the building, settling into his post at the security desk. Acting normal. Professional.
But Carson’s instincts screamed that something was wrong with Eugene Morrison. The fake name. The deleted security footage. The access to every apartment in the building.
His phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number:Stop.
Carson’s pulse spiked. He stared at the message, adrenaline flooding his system.
Another text came through:You can’t protect her. Leave it alone.
